Heart Torn in Two
by EmilyRachelle
Summary: Two hearts. Two worlds. Two children. When Susan leaves Narnia the second time, she leaves much more than a lover behind and carries a great secret with her. Will her life ever be whole again? Caspian/Susan. Movie canon. Begins during Prince Caspian. Rated T to be safe. ON HIATUS. PLAN TO RESUME IN NOVEMBER.
1. First Sight: Susan

I lie on the grass by the fire and stare up at the stars above me. Narnian stars. How can this be the Narnian sky? Lucy and I should be meeting our new mates at boarding school or sleeping on mattresses, wearing plain British nightdresses. Instead, we're lying in red and purple Narnian gowns by a campfire with our brothers and a bearded dwarf. Rather than mattresses, we sleep on thick green grass under tall pine trees and the deep blue Narnian night sky. The stars remind me of snowflakes scattered across a blue velvet winter dress.

I listen to the crackle of the fire before I speak, hoping my sister replies. It's too quiet and lonely at night. "Lucy, are you awake?" She murmurs a response, so I push myself off the ground and onto my elbow.

"Why do you think I didn't see Aslan?" The thought won't leave my mind. All four of us came to Narnia before. All four of us fought alongside Aslan and defeated the White Witch. All four of us were Kings and Queens. Why is it that Lucy alone saw Aslan?

She sits up as well, a puzzled expression on her face. "You believe me?"

"Well, we got across the gorge."

"I don't know." She pauses. "Maybe you didn't really want to."

The thought surprises me, not in a pleasant way. Do I lack faith? I don't doubt that we're back in Narnia. After all, I can smell the smoky campfire, hear the crickets, see the stars, feel the cool grass below me. Perhaps the issue is not my lack of faith, but rather that Lucy's belief is simply stronger.

"You always knew we'd be coming back, didn't you?"

"I hoped so."

I lay back down, frustrated. Even the childish, simple Lucy never really knew. How was I expected to keep the faith for a whole year of uncertainty? Why does Aslan play these games with us? I can't help but sympathize with Peter's frustration earlier today in the train station. We waited an entire year with no idea of when or even if Aslan would call us back. Now he finally has, with no warning and no welcome. We're strangers in our own land - both of our lands, quite frankly - and he won't even come to us to help. "I'd finally just got used to the idea of being back in England."

"But you're happy to be here, aren't you?" I can hear in her tone that she's concerned for me. Lucy always was the simple one, the one of us who found joy most easily.

I hate to cast a shadow over that childish happiness, but one of us must be logical. "While it lasts." I can tell that my answer worries Lucy. Still, it's true. I won't have my life and hopes destroyed when I return to England... not like last time.

Lucy lies down and I close my eyes, surrendering to sleep.

"Susan, wake up!"

It takes me a moment to wake enough to realize that Lucy's speaking to me. It's too early to get up. "Certainly, Lu. Whatever you want." I fold my arms to make a more comfortable pillow for my head than the hard ground under the grass is providing.

A few quiet minutes pass before Lucy grabs my arm and shakes, snatching me out of my sleep. "Susan, Edmund, hurry! Come quick!" She runs off without explanation. I blink away my grogginess and Ed stands and gives me a hand up. I grab my bow and quiver with the other hand. Trumpkin, the dwarf, stamps out the fire. With him and Edmund close behind me, I run in the direction Lucy disappeared just as I hear her cry out, "No! Stop!"

A few seconds more and I'm standing beside her. "Peter!" He's standing, rock in hand, by a human young man with thick, shoulder-length black hair. The strongly built man is wearing dark blue and white Telmarine attire and is holding Peter's sword in a fighting stance. Behind them, I can see Narnians all around - minotaurs, centaurs, fauns, bears, cheetahs. This cannot be good.

The man glances at Edmund, Lucy, and I before looking down at Peter's sword. He looks vaguely familiar, and I wonder if I knew him before in Narnia. Then I remember. Maybe we knew his ancestors...

"High King Peter." His accent - Spanish? Mediterranean? - is thick. His tone is more of disbelief than awe. I hope that isn't becoming a trend. It seems the thirteen hundred years we've spent away have not done our reputation in Narnia well. Why did Aslan wait so long?

"I believe you called." I recognize Peter's tone. It's one he often uses with me when he thinks I'm being stubborn.

"Well, yes... but... I thought you'd be older." This is the man who blew my horn?

"If you like, we could come back in a few years..." Peter glances at us. I can tell he's still frustrated with the Telmarine, but it can't be that bad if he's teasing.

"No! No, that's all right. You're just... You're not exactly what I expected." The man looks at Lucy, Edmund, Trumpkin, and I. This time I get a better look at him. Tan skin, dimpled chin, a hint of a smile. His dark eyes, so brown they're almost black, linger on me a bit longer than on my siblings. I'm acutely aware of his admiring me and glance down at the ground, at Peter, back at him. His attention is flattering and uncomfortable at once.

"Neither are you." Edmund sounds wary. I suppose he knows better than the rest of us that things in Narnia aren't always what they seem.

The Narnians, including a large talking rat, pledge their service to Peter and the rest of us. I begin to think perhaps being back in Narnia won't be so bad after all. So long as we keep in mind that it's temporary, I'm sure all my siblings and I will fit back into our places here. Still, the tension between Peter and this man is clear to me - to everyone else, as well, I'm sure - and I'm afraid it might cause problems in the future.

Peter turns and follows the now leaving Narnians to their campsite. The man falls in step behind Peter. I lead Lucy, Edmund, and Trumpkin behind the Telmarine. He slows a bit to walk beside me, and to busy my hands, I slide my quiver over one shoulder and my bow over the other.

"High Queen Susan?" His voice is rich and his accent is thrilling. I shake the feeling off immediately and nod curtly. My family and I won't be in Narnia long enough for me to afford encouraging his attentions.

"Prince Caspian the Tenth." Of course! Caspian, the Telmarine prince in ally with the Narnians. This doesn't explain why he seems familiar, but Trumpkin has been leading us to meet him and his army. I was right; he's the reason we're here, the man who blew my magic horn. He holds out his hand and I take it reluctantly, pulling mine away almost instantly. I can't help but notice how strong and warm his hand feels against mine.

"Welcome back to Narnia."


	2. Sparks: Caspian

**A/N: Thanks everyone for the great response to this story! I have a lot planned for Susan - and, of course, Caspian. Hopefully a YouTube trailer will also be available soon! My plan is to post one chapter every week, but since I'm going to camp next week, I figured it wouldn't hurt to post this one early. ;) Also, happy sixteenth birthday to my writer friend A! Consider the early chapter your birthday present. :)**

She slips away, unnoticed by her siblings, into the dark woods of the night. Barely a moment's hesitation passes before I hand the wood I've gathered to a minotaur and follow her.

Keeping up with the High Queen proves itself more difficult than I expected, particularly in the darkness, but I manage. The low chatter of the Narnians setting up camp fades away behind me, as does the little bit of light the moon provided in the clearing. Instead, shadows and the smell of pine envelope me, accompanied by the sound of crunching twigs underfoot and singing crickets.

I don't notice when the Queen comes to a silent stop. I nearly walk into her. She turns her head slightly to the right, acknowledging my presence without addressing me. Then she looks up at the night sky through the pine branches. Unsure of how to behave in her presence, I bow slightly.

"Your Highness."

"Why are you following me?" Her tone is not unkind. Neither is it welcoming.

I find I have no answer for her. A pause passes before I stutter, "I thought- it just seemed... well, you were alone."

"I prefer it."

How does one respond to that? I've made a mistake, overstepped my boundaries. It offended her, I'm sure. "I apologize, my lady."

Another long pause preludes her reply. "You have lived in this world all your life, but the Narnian realm is still new to you." Her tone is softer now. She is making a statement, not an accusation.

I wait quietly in hopes that she will continue. It's difficult to make out the silhouette of her face and hair here in the deep blue night. Her hair is so beautiful, long and silky and dark. I'm not quite sure how to deal with the feelings her presence today has awoken in me.

Just when I think the Queen has dismissed me entirely, her melodic voice speaks again. "What do you think of it?"

"Of what?" I hope my lack of a proper address is acceptable, considering my own position as a Crown Prince.

She turns to face me; all I can see of her is the glittering outline of her pale eyes. "Of Narnia."

The darkness emboldens me. I continue to gaze at her as I answer what first comes to mind, uncensored. "I don't know what to think. This morning it was all a nursery story. Less than a day has passed, and I'm leading an mythological army alongside the greatest legends of all."

She looks away from me, at the sky again, and a chill slips through my body when her eyes leave mine. "We're hardly legends." I'm about to protest this statement when she continues. "We were, once, I suppose. But even then we never really belonged here. Not permanently."

Her speech is a riddle to me, but then no Narnian or Telmarine could ever make complete sense of all the mysteries surrounding the Kings and Queens of old. Rather than questioning, I relate to what I can.

"I was never at home in the palace. I am the true heir to the throne, but my uncle has always held the power. Now I suppose he will take the title for himself as well, with an heir of his own. I am sure of it."

"I suppose." She sighs, a deep and sorrowful sound. I wonder at all the strange things she must know, having lived so long ago and returning now to a changed Narnia. Where was she during all those years? Sleeping? Among the stars? How did the magic call her back?

I speak the thought before it's completely formed in my mind. "What was it like - coming back? How did you do it?"

A ghost of a smile crosses her face. "It was wonderful."

She doesn't say anything else, so I ask again. "But where were you, all these years? How did you return?"

I fear she won't answer me. She's been so closed off all day, such a distant mystery to me. For whatever reason, though, she does. "That's just the thing. I'm from a different world - one you could never imagine. Time works differently there. There is no magic. When you come back to that world from Narnia, the whole place is strange. Cold. Indifferent to you, to your existence. I was a queen. I went on hunts and courted princes and fought in wars. Then I returned, and I was a child sent off to school. I couldn't go out on my own, much less fight witches or visit with royalty. Aslan never tells you these things... He never prepares you." She shifts her feet and looks down at the ground. "He never prepared me."

I clear my throat, desperately searching for words of comfort or wisdom. My short life in the palace of Telmar has not prepared me to comfort a High Queen with such depths of sorrow. In place of words I do not have to give, I find her hand lying limp against the soft skirt of her dress. Her skin is cold and smooth in my warm hand, so much larger than hers. She waits only a moment before pulling it away, as I suspected she would. I let her.

"Do not worry. I only meant to be of some comfort."

She faces away from me, into the impenetrable night forest. "I doubt you can." She inhales deeply. "Still, I have some time before going back. I suppose I'll make the most of that."

I touch her shoulder gently to get her attention. Quickly she turns her head back to me and I smile, hoping to encourage her. I offer my arm to her, but she shakes her head, turning towards the camp. I wait for her to walk a few steps ahead. She turns back to look at me.

"Are you coming?"

Holding back my smile, I catch up with her. We walk in silence, side by side, back to the quiet camp.


	3. Lonely Hero: Susan

**A/N: Hello everybody! I'm back from camp and ready to jump back in to Susan and Caspian's journey! To all my lovely new readers, welcome and thanks so much for following me. I think I'm having as much fun working on this as you are reading it! :)**

My breathing deepens as I take long strides to keep up with the trail of Narnians in front of me and not hold back those behind me. We've been walking for nearly an hour. The sunlight is starting to sprinkle down on us through the trees. I've lost sight of the others, but I know my siblings well. Peter is most likely at the lead of the trail, always determined to be the Great and High King Aslan crowned him. Sometimes I think that title indulged his pride too much. Lucy, on the other hand, can surely be found talking with someone. Be they a willing conversationalist like that rat - Reaping Cheeks, I think? - or a more reluctant listener such as the DLF, I'm sure Lucy is enjoying herself.

Edmund... now he could be anywhere. He's always the least predictable, but at least that's not as bad now.

I glance back to see Caspian's dark eyes trained on mine. He neither looks away nor acknowledges my glance. His pace does not change; one hand rests on the hilt of his sword as he walks. He seems oddly at home marching through the Narnian woods. My sigh escapes; I hope I don't sound rude, but I wish he'd let me be. "As I told you before, I prefer to be alone."

He counters without pause. "I will not be a bother. You can hardly be alone in the center of an army, I think."

I can't help but smile at the simple assumption. "You would be wrong."

His voice softens, and the low tones of his quiet words thicken his accent. "My father died when I was young. I may not have lived as long as you, Your Majesty, but I can say I have known sorrow and loss."

His confession surprises me; I don't know how to respond. Without intending to, I speak my wonder aloud. "Why do you take such an interest in me?"

For a few moments, the conversations of those around us and the crunch of leaves and brush underfoot are the only sounds. The walk to the place Caspian suggested for setting up a more permanent war camp is proving more exerting than I expected. I inhale the scent of pine deeply and try to ignore the sweat trickling down my neck and back. Not for the first time, I wish I'd thought to tie my hair up before we set out this morning.

Finally Caspian speaks, this time with a tone more bold and curious than personal. "I suppose I find you intriguing. Your life is both history and legend to me, yet here you are as real as the trees around us. The chance to talk with such a mystery is hardly granted every day."

I smile again at those words. How can he so easily go from an equal, a fellow royal, to a sort of worshipper or even faithful puppy? "I told you-"

"You're hardly legends. I know. To every child ever told a bedtime story, though, you are. I don't see why you can't admit it. Nor why you find yourself so lonely. I think a family such as yours would be something many people would give the world to have."

I look back at him and see the truth in those dark eyes. Pain lurks behind the gravity of his remark. A bolt of heat reverberates from my heart through my chest and I clear my throat. "You have no family?"

He shakes his head and his hair falls into his face. I resist a sudden, shocking urge to reach out and tuck it back behind his ear. Quickly I turn to look at the trail of Narnians in front of me, focusing on my speech, not the confusing questions and emotions that have suddenly flooded my mind and body. "Yes, well, it's not all it appears to be. I suppose things were always hardest for me - sometimes Peter and I both, to be honest. Lucy finds it easy to believe in things, and not just because she's youngest. Edmund... of all of us, I think he grew up the most last time. So quickly too." I pause for a moment, remembering the witch. "Sometimes Narnia isn't full of good and beautiful things," I whisper.

Caspian doesn't respond, remaining quiet. I wonder how much he knows of our stories, of my life. How many tales of the Pevensies' reign in Narnia were passed down. "That doesn't matter now, though. Peter and I are the oldest. We have to look out for the others. We have to be reasonable and take charge, even when we'd rather not at times. I suppose I just feel a bit like an overwhelmed parent... a widow of war, even."

We walk quietly for a bit. I think he's let the matter drop, but then he asks again. "So all your time here in Narnia, you are lonely because you are responsible?"

It sounds strange spoken aloud, but it fits. It makes sense in my heart. I nod.

"That's not preference." He pauses. "It is strength."

I smile and look back at him, where the sympathy in his eyes nearly overwhelms me. It's unexpected. I look away quickly. After a few minutes I feel him slip his hand into mine. The warmth rushes up my arm; I pull away and shake my head. He places his strong, gentle hand on my shoulder, forcing me to stop walking. I sigh and look back at him, avoiding his eyes. Narnians walk around us, respectfully ignoring the scene. Caspian waits until I finally look up into his dark, soul-searching gaze to whisper directly to my heart.

"Just remember... one cannot be both strong and alone forever."


	4. A Lesson in Trust: Susan

**A/N: Hello, my lovely readers. Sorry this is late! I had some major writer's block with this chapter. But thanks to a word war with a friend in my online writers' group, it's finally ready! I hope it's good enough to make the wait worth it :)**

I take a deep breath and let it out in a sigh as sleep overtakes me. It seems only moments before I awake to the first shy, dancing light of dawn. A quick glance around the camp lying out on the grass proves that I'm the first to wake. Silently I rise to my feet and slip away from the camp, my quiver on my back and my bow in hand.

With no particular destination in mind, I wander the forest and savor the quiet of the sleeping forest. The thought of all the trees asleep touches my heart with sadness; how long have they remained sleeping? My sorrow is not nearly so deep as Lucy's, I know. The trees were some of her dearest friends during our previous days of exploring the forests and ruling the fantastical creatures here.

A snap behind me breaks into my thoughts and I swivel noiselessly, whipping an arrow from my quiver and sliding it in place on the string of my bow. String taut and hands poised to shoot, I glance from tree to tree for any sign of my follower. A warm, moist rush of air on my neck disarms my alarm and I drop the weapons to the ground, turning towards the glorious golden figure.

"Aslan."

"Susan." His deep, rich voice fills a tight spot in my chest. How long it has been! He's grown - his shoulders stand taller and it seems as though his fur is brighter, more golden in the morning sunlight.

"Why has it taken this long for us to meet? Why did you wait so long to call us back? Narnia-"

"You may never understand everything, Susan. It is only for you to trust that I know what I am doing, and that it is best for your family and for Narnia." The steady cadence and restful tone of his words calm my agitated spirit a little. I sigh. It is truly difficult to trust, especially when Narnia and my family so clearly could have benefited from an earlier return than Aslan granted us. Still, Aslan never led me or my family astray before - or the Narnians, for that matter. Perhaps the future will prove better than what I can think of now.

Aslan takes a step closer, and I can feel his body heat warming the air around us. His loving, wise eyes speak of old age and vast knowledge of which I long to understand even a fraction. "You must learn to trust, Susan. You must learn to rely on others. No man was meant to walk the paths of life alone."

"I'm not alone. I have my family." I may have nothing else of significance, but they will always be the greatest part of my life.

"That is true. But do you rely on them? There are others placed in your life, as well. You must learn to trust."

The truth of his words slice through my heart and I search my mind for a response that will not betray me. "You said that already."

He smiles, but there is no laughter in his eyes. I feel like I have failed him somehow, and the sadness of that thought is like an itch I can't scratch. "I do not err. Those things which I repeat are of great importance. Do not forget this, my dear." The great lion opens his mouth and blows out his warm breath. I close my eyes and savor the warmth, but suddenly it ceases.

When I open my eyes, the black night surrounds me once again. The camp is not sleeping under starlight and pine trees, but under the protection of stone walls. I remember our arrival at Aslan's How the day before, and the torch lit tour that Caspian gave my family of the stories painted along the tunnels.

It was a dream. Aslan was a dream.

"Is something the matter, Your Highness?" Caspian's Mediterranean accent rolls over my scattered senses like water over thirsty soil. The intensity of the sensation surprises me, and I wonder if I will ever escape the strange feelings his presence and his voice bring to me.

"No. No, I just..."

_You must learn to trust_. Is this what Aslan meant? It's not a pleasant thought, but not as horrible as it might have once seemed. The loneliness overwhelms me in the darkness of night. Caspian has made it clear he is willing to listen. He seems a trustworthy and selfless man, helping a group of Narnians to battle against his own people for the sake of defeating a corrupt ruler. I take a deep breath and pull my legs up against my body, wrapping my arms around my softly skirted knees.

"Actually, yes. I had a dream."

Caspian stands and walks from the other side of the campfire, stepping carefully over the sleeping bodies of the dwarf and my siblings, to sit by me. The ruffled neckline of his thin white nightshirt dips down to the middle of his chest, revealing a peek of tan muscles. I am glad that the fire has died down and the embers and ashes do not afford enough light to make out our faces. Speaking my heart has never been easy for me, and the privacy darkness provides makes it seem easier.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice carries compassion; he is truly listening, with no selfish intent. How rare that truly is in the world.

I nod. "I... I met Aslan."

"What do you mean?"

"I woke by the campfire, at dawn. I set out with my quiver and bow to wander the forest, and Aslan was there. He spoke to me." I pause, and Caspian sits in the silence with me, patiently waiting for me to continue. What is it about this man that makes me open up like I never have before? What is it about me that intrigues him so? I shake the thoughts away and take a deep breath, pressing on. Trust, Susan. "You must learn to trust, he said. Man was not created to be lonely."

"Aslan is a great and wise lion."

I chuckle and nod. "That he is."

There's a pause before Caspian speaks again. "What do you think he meant?"

I look up at Caspian, shrouded in the darkness save for the glint in his dark eyes. "I told him that I trust my family, and he told me I must rely on them better." I almost leave it at that, but something prods me on, so I look back at the fire and continue. "He said there are others in my life, too. Others I must learn to trust."

"Do you know who he meant?" he repeats.

I lower my head and stare at my arms wrapped around my skirt. A trace of a smile tugs at my face and I give in to it, knowing I am invisible in the fireless night. In a whisper only partially directed toward Caspian, I reply, "I think I'm starting to."


	5. Poised for Battle: Susan

**A/N: This one's a bit shorter than usual, since chapters four was longer and chapter six probably will be, too. I know there's not much Susan/Caspian interaction or literary magnificence here, but bear with me! Nothing I post in this story is entirely without importance ;)**

"I think it's up to us now."

I sit in the tunnels of Aslan's How, polishing my already shining armor, as Peter's words to Lucy earlier this afternoon echo in my mind. Aslan has left us. He told Lucy that things never happened the same way twice, so we cannot expect him to fight by our side like last time. He told me to trust the people around me, so clearly he doesn't intend for me to rely on him any longer.

I think I knew from the moment we went home. I knew in my heart that when we returned to England - when he did not call us back - we would not see him again. Even when we did return to Narnia, it was not to Aslan's call or Aslan's prophecy, but my magic horn's call from a man's lips. Still, it stings. How could he leave us - betray us, even, dare I say? I banish the thought the moment it surfaces. He did not turn us in to our enemies or abandon us. He still comes in dreams. Yet this lack of guidance, the lack of his presence...

Peter was right. Now, more than ever, I feel so alone.

I'm startled to notice Lucy standing next to me. "They're gathering now. Peter sent me to fetch you." Her sweet child's voice is magnified in the tunnel.

"All right, then. Help me up." I hold out a hand and let her tug me along through the tunnels to the memorial. I avert my eyes from the carving of Aslan; the thoughts I was just entertaining burn into my conscience. Lucy climbs onto the broken Stone Table. I choose a large rock instead.

Peter is speaking to everyone gathered of the Telmarine spy spotted earlier today. "It's only a matter of time. Miraz's men and war machines are on their way. That means those same men aren't protecting his castle."

Reepicheep, an admirable if slightly arrogant rat, inquires after the plan. Peter and Caspian both begin to answer. While I show no outward sign, inwardly I cringe. Peter does not take kindly to sharing power, and already I can see in his face that his patience with Caspian is stretching. My brother cannot see how young he truly is, or how proud he's allowed himself to become. The great king he once was is reduced to a swollen ego in a hormonal body. Caspian reacts gracefully, though, and allows Peter the floor.

"Our only hope is to strike them before they strike us." He takes a confident stand on the side of offence. Naturally.

Caspian steps towards Peter. "But that's crazy. No one has ever taken that castle." His sincerity radiates from his expression.

Peter holds out his arms. "There's always a first time."

"We'll have the element of surprise." Of course the dwarf would want to fight. They're such a violent race.

"But we have the advantage here."

I can stand it no longer. I slide off my rock and step next to Caspian, facing my brother. "If we dig in, we could probably hold them off indefinitely." Caspian glances at me, and I return the look before directing my gaze back at Peter. We've been in this new, changed Narnia, a savage land with Telmarines, for just a few days. Why won't he listen to Caspian, the man who grew up in the palace?

The set of Peter's jaw and the glare he points toward me make his response clear.

The debate continues. The badger and squirrel stand with Caspian and I, while Edmund joins Peter. Peter puts down Caspian's suggestion as if he were a child offering suggestions to an adult. The centaurs reluctantly agree to fight with Peter. Lucy attempts to turn us all back to Aslan, but this is one point on which I agree with Peter. Waiting on Aslan is not an option.

It seems that Peter has made our decision: tonight we head to battle.


	6. Dead of Night: Caspian

**A/N: I hope you enjoy today's longer segment. :) Part One of the battle portion! Part Two should be up soon.**

The whispering rustle of feathers is the only sound as cold wind bites at my face and hands. My legs ache with the strain of keeping them up straight. The metal plates of my upper armor bite into my skin as the griffin's talons press into them. My heart pounds in my throat; my chest heaves as I struggle to keep my wild breathing under control.

I am flying. A man in full armor, flying!

I strain to keep my eyes open in the biting wind, although I can make out only the tiny dots of light caused by the torches along the castle towers and walls. Susan, Peter, and Trumpkin fly nearby, each in a griffin's firm grasp just as I am. The creatures align themselves as we reach the tower where Edmund stands. He signals us with his strange metal torch. My beast pulls to the front while the others fall back. Clasping one hand around a talon, I use my other hand to draw my sword. The griffin releases my body and I fall forward, swinging my sword into the tower guard's body with all the force of gravity.

The lifeless body falls silently onto the stone floor of the tower, and the griffin pulls me back up. The griffins, carrying myself and the others, swoop gracefully and swiftly down towards the castle wall. While still in flight, Susan takes down one of two guards with her bow. The moment we touch down, Peter's sword deals with the other. They each take their stances, a precaution for the possibility of other guards. Trumpkin and I step down onto the wall.

Various Narnians either have already or are currently disposing of the night shift guards. Peter and I scale down the castle wall. I tap on the window of my professor's study.

"Professor! Professor?" He is not a heavy sleeper. When there is no response, I use the tip of my sword to lift the latch. Slowly I push open the window and step inside, with Peter directly behind me.

The state of the room is shocking. Books and papers, torn and tossed about, are scattered across every surface. My professor's spectacles lie on his desk, next to a large book open to a portrait of the High Kings and Queens. A bow like those from Susan's quiver stands aright, pierced through the portrait.

"We have to find him." I look to Susan. This man nearly raised me. She will understand the importance of family, and the professor is the closest to family that I have, especially concerning the latest with my uncle.

Peter's tone is that of scolding. "You don't have time; you've got to get the gate open." Every day I realize more that he and his sister are as night and day.

Susan remains silent. "You wouldn't even be here without him... and neither would I." The professor found Susan's horn. He raised me with knowledge of Narnia and saved me from my uncle. When the time came, he gave me the horn that brought the Kings and Queens back to save us. Now the time has come for us to save him.

Peter turns to his sister, who nods ever so slightly. "You and I can deal with Miraz." Bless the Gentle Queen! She turns her gaze to me and I know she is doing this for my sake. I won't let her down.

"I can still get to the gate in time." With one last glance at Susan, I turn my course towards the dungeon.

The inebriated prison guard is easily dealt with. My hands fumble with the keys to the cell doors, but I am soon kneeling by my tutor's side. "Five more minutes?" I smile briefly before returning to my task and unlocking his chains. We have no time to talk.

"What are you doing here? I didn't help you escape just so you could break back in." Despite his words, my teacher cooperates as I help him up. He turns to me and grasps my shoulders, grunting and straining. How long has he spent in this prison? What has Miraz done to him? "You have to get out... before Miraz learns you're here."

"He will find out soon enough." I hand the cell key to him and smile. "We are giving him your cell." I turn to go back up the stairs, back to the gate, but my professor grabs my shoulder once again. He pulls me back around and presses me up against the cell bars, stepping close to me. The expression on his face is one I have never seen before, and it frightens me.

"Do not underestimate Miraz as your father did."

The gravity of his words strikes through my heart. "What are you talking about?"

The tutor looks down. "I'm sorry." I can see he wishes he had not spoken, but words cannot be unsaid. I turn and run up the dungeon stairs. My pace does not slow as I make my way through the halls of the palace I grew up in. I slip through a familiar doorway and slowly draw my sword, careful not to wake the sleeping couple. I lay the point of my weapon at my uncle's throat. Once the initial start of waking passes from his eyes, he smiles and laughs. I stand ready to kill him, and he laughs!

"Thank goodness you're safe."

I have no time for empty words. "Get up." He wakes his wife as he does so.

"What?" She notices me. "Caspian?"

"Stay where you are." My aunt is a sweet but naïve woman. She will never see Miraz for the monster he really is. Right now I haven't the time for her simple faith in family.

"What are you doing?"

Miraz's steady monotone betrays no fear of death. "I should think it's obvious, dear." He directs his words back to me. "You know, some families might consider this inappropriate behavior."

"That doesn't seem to have stopped you!" I step forward, keeping the sword level with his throat.

"But you are not like me, are you?" he hisses. "It's sad." He shrugs. "The first time you've shown any backbone and it's such a waste." What does he mean?

I hear a click to my left and glance at Aunt Pruniprisma. In her hands is a loaded crossbow, trained directly at me. "Put the sword down, Caspian." Her patience and nervousness combined make for an odd, wobbly tone of voice. "I don't want to do this." I turn back to Miraz, knowing him to be far more dangerous than his wife.

"We don't want you to either." The firm voice of Susan in battle mode rings out loud and clear behind me. I turn to glance at her. She and Peter have arrived at the door, weapons at the ready.

My aunt swings her bow from me to them and back, clearly confused. My uncle places his hands on his hips, as if this whole event is nothing more than a simple annoyance. "This used to be a private room."

"What are you doing?" I glance from Miraz to Peter, who is beyond frustrated with me. "You're supposed to be in the gatehouse!"

"No!" I have had enough. This ends now! "Tonight for once, I want the truth." I back Miraz up to the window behind him. "Did you kill my father?"

He sighs. "Now we get to it."


	7. For Narnia: Caspian

**A/N: Part Two of the battle scene.**

He raises his eyebrows. Is this all a game to him?

"You said your brother died in his sleep." My aunt's voice wavers with her faith in her husband.

"That was more or less true." How can he make light of this?

"Caspian, this won't make things any better," Susan pleads.

Miraz refuses to let her continue. What is he attempting to do? "We Telmarines would have nothing had we not taken it. Your father knew that as well as anyone."

"How could you?" In the corner of my eye, I can see my aunt lowering the crossbow. Finally the truth has come to light, but her question echoes in my soul. My own father, killed by the man who has ruled in my stead all these years? Killed by his own brother?

"For the same reason you will pull that trigger. For our son!" Miraz begins to walk slowly, steadily towards me. I back away, not ready to take my own uncle's life. Not ready to stoop to his level, a murderer.

"Stop!" Aunt Pruniprisma levels the crossbow at me once again.

Susan calls out to her. "Stay right there!"

Miraz turns his glance to his wife. "You need to make a choice, dear. Do you want our child to be king? Or do you want him to be like Caspian here?" He pauses before stepping once again toward my sword. The point is beginning to slice through his skin and the blood slowly trickles down his neck towards his nightshirt. "Fatherless!"

"No!" The screech releases from my aunt's lips just as she pulls the trigger of the crossbow and searing pain bites into my shoulder. I drop my sword and grab my wounded arm as Miraz escapes through the passageway in his closet. Susan looses her arrow, which hits the door above Miraz's head. Aunt Pruniprisma wails on the bed. Peter tries to follow Miraz, but the door falls shut and locks between them. I fall onto a chair positioned by the fireplace, clenching my teeth and fighting the pain as I pull the arrow out. Susan steps towards me.

"Are you all right?" Her voice is brisk.

I nod. "A moment."

She nods and turns to her brother, who motions towards the door with his head. "The gate." They leave the room. I force myself off the chair and follow, clutching my wounded arm with my good hand.

The alarm bell sounds as we run through the halls. Peter and Susan glance up momentarily, but then ignore the noise. Miraz is warning the men. Our advantage has been lost. The attack has failed. I run ahead of Susan and Peter. When we reach the passageway, I turn to lead them back out of the palace. Susan follows, but Peter continues down the hallway.

"Peter!" Susan's desperation is clear. I turn back and join her in the hall.

"Our troops are just outside! Come on!" He runs on without us. Susan and I share a glance before following, quite possibly to our deaths.

Peter call out to Edmund and deals with the two guards before running to the gate. Susan and I join him. He strains to open the gate while Susan attempts to reason with him. I glance from them to the castle, watching for the stream of Telmarine soldiers that will let loose upon us at any moment.

"Peter! It's too late. We have to call it off while we can."

"No, I can still do this!" He does not pause his efforts. The first soldier comes yelling from the castle, torch in hand. "Help me!"

Susan and I glance at each other; we have no choice. Peter is leading us. I sheath my sword and Susan and I join Peter at the gate wheel.

"Exactly who are you doing this for, Peter?" She's angry. Rightfully so. Tonight's battle will not end well for us, not against the whole of the castle army.

I watch Peter, who doesn't answer. What is he trying to prove? Why is he doing this? I look at Susan, my chest flooded with emotions I cannot fully comprehend. If we do not make it out tonight...

Edmund has signaled the troops. The soldiers are pouring out of the castle, running towards the three of us. The gate is nearly open. Just a few more moments!

The gate is up. Our Narnia troops charge through into the castle courtyard. Peter, Susan, and I turn from the gate wheel and draw our swords, and Peter leads us into battle with the cry, "For Narnia!"


	8. Heat of Battle: Caspian and Susan

**A/N: I would wait another day or two before posting this, but I'm too excited! Part Three of the battle scene. Today's chapter is something new. I'm not sure whether I'll use this technique again, but I felt like this final part of the battle scene just wasn't complete with only one point of view. It's a crucial moment in both characters internally, so this chapter is written to reflect that.**

_Caspian_

Unable to control my fear of losing Susan, I channel it into my sword. The outcome of tonight's battle is yet to be seen, but Narnia will most certainly give her all, and I with her.

The centaurs fight bravely. The rats cast down men on all sides. We are woefully outnumbered, but we fight with a passion. I throw all my years of the finest Telmarine training into each swing of my sword. All thoughts of life or death, of dear gentle Susan, are thrown aside as the heat and passion of battle swallows me.

One man down. Two. Three. With each soldier I fell, I let out a cry. All the anger and rage at my uncle, at my father's death, at my professor's imprisonment, at the possibilities that this battle brings to mind I let loose upon the Telmarine soldiers. I was trained by them, learned alongside them, grew up with some of them. But my uncle has an heir now, and they are all the enemy with him.

I glance up to notice that Miraz is standing on his balcony, watching the battle play out. I glance at the stairs, planning out the route in my head, but then I notice Peter is already fighting his way up towards my uncle. If nothing else, he and I have a common enemy. I watch as he heads up the stairs, until a clattering and a crash bring both our attentions to the gate, falling closed with a single minotaur keeping it open.

We've lost.

Peter understands the situation as well. "Fall back!" he cries.

He runs down the stairs, calling out orders for a retreat. I glance toward Susan and Peter calls out to a centaur. "Go! Get her out of here!"

She is taken care of. Relief fills me and with refreshed energy I run for the stables. I hear Susan behind me call back to Peter. I can't make out her words, but it doesn't matter. The life of High Queen Susan is more important than that of a displaced Telmarine prince.

She's safe. They'll get her back to the camp. Susan is safe.

The adrenaline pumping through me is as valuable as my sword as I slice down the few guards in my path. Soon I've reached the stables, where I find my professor on horseback with two other saddled horses. With not a moment to spare, I slide onto one and ride back out to the courtyard, leading the other by the reins. The Professor follows. I glance up at Miraz, standing next to the head of the army on his balcony. Miraz is ready for blood. I find Peter in the fray and catch his eye. He runs in the direction of the gate, calling out retreat. I guide the horses in that direction. We meet up in the middle of the courtyard and Peter jumps onto the riderless horse.

Miraz signals the archers and arrows rain down as Peter, the Professor, and I gallop towards the gate with the remnants of the Narnia army behind us. The Professor and I reach Susan and a few Narnian warriors on the other side of the bridge.

Only a few centaurs, a couple of fauns, and several rats make it through the gate before the minotaur holding it up gives in to his injuries, trapping the rest of our army inside the castle courtyard. Peter stops to look back. The Narnians, save Reepicheep standing next to Peter, cross the bridge to join the rest of us. Those trapped call out for us save ourselves and run. The centaurs within and without the gates share a look before those trapped inside lead the Narnians to die fighting. Peter looks back at Susan with a woeful expression. Oh how many lives are lost tonight! His face radiates his realization of his mistake. He feels quite clearly how wrongly the battle has gone.

"Peter! The bridge!" Reepicheep calls out. With one final glance at the closed gate and all the many friends behind it, Peter leaps the closing drawbridge. The calls for Aslan and Narnia fade behind us as we flee the castle, with Edmund riding a griffin close behind.

_Susan_

I draw my bow and let my rage at Peter's ignorant, selfish pride fly out into a member the Telmarine enemy with an arrow. Many will die tonight, but I won't let it be in vain. We're sure to lose; at least let the Telmarines fall with us.

I focus all my years of training as the archer queen of Narnia into the battle. All thoughts Peter's arrogance, of kind understanding Caspian, are cast aside as I carefully aim and let loose arrow upon arrow.

One man down. Two. Three. I refuse to allow passion, anger, resentment swallow me. Instead I focus my energies on felling the most soldiers with the least time, throwing and stabbing arrows as well as shooting them.

I hear a call of "Archers!" and look above to the castle wall where it came from. Rows upon rows of Telmarine archers are taking their places in line on the castle wall. They take their aim - and one of them focuses on Peter! Oh, my stupid, prideful brother, what have you done?

Suddenly the archer is screaming as he falls to the ground, and Edmund stands with a shocked expression in his place.

The archer's scream catches Peter's attention, who immediately notices- "Ed!" He has to get away from those archers! A good dozen of them are now aiming at him. As they let their arrows fly, Ed runs and slides into the tower next to him, slamming the door shut behind him. I pray the arrows have missed him.

I turn back to the battle and my bow. Ed is safe for now, and Caspian and Peter can take care of themselves. The battle is my entire focus for this moment.

A clattering and a crash brings my attention to the gate, falling closed upon a single minotaur who holds it open.

We've lost.

Peter sees the gate as well. "Fall back!" he cries.

He runs down the stairs, calling out orders for a retreat. I glance around for signs of Caspian, but don't see him. Peter points to a centaur. "Go! Get her out of here!"

I watch the centaur gallop toward me and reach out my hand. We grasp arms and he swings me onto his back. He takes a few steps before I turn back to Peter. "Caspian!" We cannot leave him! He is too dear to us- no. To me.

"I'll find him!" He turns to run farther into the battle, and I know he will take care of things. He may be a proud leader, but he is a leader nonetheless. None from our family, not even the man who is not quite family, will be left behind.

The centaur and I, along with a few other Narnians, make it under the gate and across the bridge before stopping to watch and wait. _Oh, please, Aslan,_ I pray, _if you're listening, if you're still there for us, bring them back. Bring them out alive. Don't let my family die. Don't let _him_._

A cry I can barely hear rings out, and suddenly arrows are raining down upon the entire scene in the courtyard. No! No, just a few more moments, please! They have to make it!

Oh! But there is Caspian! Oh, yes! And- and yes! Peter follows close behind him, and Caspian's professor is there as well! They are safe! Caspian rides to my side and we glance at each other. He is safe.

The minotaur holding the gate gives in to his injuries, trapping the others inside. Peter stops to look back. The Narnians, except Reepicheep, cross the bridge to join the rest of us. Those trapped call out to save ourselves and run. The centaurs within the gates share a look with the one I ride on. Those trapped inside lead the Narnians to die fighting. Peter looks back at me and I can read the tears in his eyes. I blink back a few of my own. This is a night beyond words, beyond horror.

"Peter! The bridge!" Reepicheep calls out. With one final glance at the closed gate and all the many friends behind it, Peter leaps the closing drawbridge. The calls for Aslan and Narnia fade behind us as we flee the castle, with Edmund riding a griffin close behind.


	9. Heart of a King: Susan

**A/N: ****Our favorite couple gets to matters of the heart! *sigh* ********This one took me a little longer, for multiple reasons, including a family vacation and the need for a little feedback from writer friends before it went live. Still, it's up now, and I hope y'all like it! Plus... YOUTUBE TRAILER! :D Go see it now! I'm in love with it! watch?v=_i7_8GbvILo **

I walk outside, desperate to get away from the stifling confines of the How. After last night's battle, the last place I wish to be is in a fire lit tomb. Fatigue tugs on the corners of my mind and weighs down the skirts of my dress. I walk to the crumbling stone square standing before the How and lean against a column, closing my eyes and pressing my hands against the cool rock.

I hear voices faintly to my left and turn to look. Caspian and Lucy are walking alongside the outer rock walls of the How. I shuffle my feet to the right and slide down onto the ground, pulling my legs to me. I do not wish to be seen at the moment.

The cries and faces of those lost last night consume my mind. I attempt to think of something else, anything else, but the memory swallows me. I see centaurs, minotaurs, fauns, tigers - Narnians of all forms - reaching out beyond the gate before realizing their hope of escape is gone. I can still hear their battle cries ringing in my ears. Tears bite at my eyes, but I blink them back and swallow hard. I am a queen of Narnia. I am a leader, a warrior. I will be strong.

I wish there was something to be done, but all that's gone now. If only Peter had let go of his stupid pride - if only Caspian had let us deal with Miraz!

But that cannot be helped. Allocating blame will do nothing to bring back those we lost or fight the war that still lays before us. Just this morning, Lucy and I forcefully reminded Peter and Caspian of that upon our return. I hate to think of what might have happened had the two of us not intervened.

A touch at my shoulder brings me to attention with a start.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you."

I sigh. Caspian pulls his hand away and gestures to the stone floor in front of me. "May I?" At my nod, he sits.

"I saw you walking with Lucy. Is she still outside?"

He shakes his head. "No; she returned inside to find Reepicheep."

"She's very fond of him."

Caspian smiles faintly. "Yes, it would seem they both enjoy the company."

"I suppose they've both found someone who talks as much as they do."

He chuckles, but then his smiles slowly falls away. We remain silent for a few moments, me fiddling with the skirt of my dress while he glances from me out to the woods and back. After a while, he speaks. "I want to apologize."

I look up but do not respond. He continues, avoiding my eyes, instead looking at my feet. "Peter was right. I should not have let my temper get the best of me. If I could learn to keep my actions from being affected by my emotions, then perhaps..." He swallows and meets my eyes; I can see my pain reflected in him. "I cannot help but think they might still be alive now."

I shake my head and reach out, boldly taking his hand. "Caspian, you can't allow yourself such thoughts. The attack was a risk from the beginning. You knew that." I sigh and look down, still holding his hand, so strong and warm. "We all did."

He nods. Another pause settles over us before he speaks again. "I am old enough to ascend the throne. I should have within the month, if not for the birth of my cousin." He laughs bitterly and turns to look towards the woods. "It is such a strange thing to say. My uncle, my cousin, my throne. They're not really mine, not anymore."

I keep quiet. I'm not sure whether he is speaking to me or simply to get the words off his mind. Either way, I have no response for him.

"I was always meant to be king. I was raised for it. As... as muddied as my relations have become, the power and control of the entire Telmarine country should lie in my hands right now." He squeezes my hand as he emphasizes the final two words. "And yet I cannot even control my own heart."

I begin to say something, but he puts up his free hand. I hold back a tug at the corners of my lips when I realize he is no more eager to let go than I am.

"I do not speak only of last night's mistakes. Even with a head clear of temper, I realize neither I nor Peter could have prevented the entire tragedy from playing out." Finally he looks up again, and his dark, penetrating gaze meets my eyes. "Just this morning, I nearly allowed my emotions to pull me into battle with the High King of Narnia himself, and not for the first time."

I smile at the memory of when my family first met Caspian, that morning in the forest. He sighs, a deep and hopeless sound that pulls at my chest. He glances away and back at me before resuming. "If we do win this war with my uncle, I might once again hold some measure of power. How can I control a nation if I cannot control my own heart?"

I lay my free hand on our clasped ones. "Caspian, I... " I look at the stone column behind him, casting about in my mind for the words to encourage him. My efforts are frustrated and I settle on the only thing I am sure of concerning the man before me. "I believe you will make a great king."

The hope and uncertainty warring in his expression tugs at my heart. He reaches out and softly touches the back of his hand to my cheek. I sit frozen, unable to respond to his touch, not wanting to pull away. My pulse shoots up and I can feel heat race from my chest and cheek through my body. Caspian leans closer, and I am sure his eyes can see straight through mine to my soul. When he speaks, his voice is thick and barely audible. "Anger is not the only emotion I find difficult to contain."

His hand brushes from my cheek to curl around the back of my neck and pull my head closer. The Telmarine prince closes the gap between us and presses his lips softly to mine.

I should fight this. I cannot allow myself to become a part of Narnia once again. Love is not a part of the plan. I will be returning home, returning to England. All of this will be left behind.

Heart pounding, pulse racing, I close my eyes and kiss him back anyway.


	10. Temptation: Caspian

**A/N: Since I've started school up again, I won't be able to post as frequently. I'll still try to post once every other week at the very least. I hope y'all enjoy this episode! Part Two of this scene will hopefully not be long in following. :) Stay tuned! ;)**

**UPDATE: THANK YOU to the reader who pointed out that I used "Edward" where it should be "Edmund." That's what I get for writing late at night :P It's fixed now. Sorry!**

I stand in the tunnels of the How, gazing at the images carved and painted along the smooth rock surfaces. These are pictures of times I have heard and read of often before, in secret lessons with my tutor, and yet I have never fully grasped the reality of them. Not until Susan and her family stood before me in the woods did I truly realize that these are more than stories or history lessons. They are real, living, breathing people. And they are here to fight with me.

Worry seeps through the corners of my mind as I stare at the picture of the Pevensies' coronation. Susan's faceless figure stands beside her throne. That kiss, merely hours ago, broken by Edmund's calling for me from the mouth of the How... I long to speak with her again, but I have not seen her since that moment. Preparations for battle have prevented me from sharing with her what I discovered sometime between the attack on the castle and our kiss: I love her. I could not bear to lose her if the next battle goes so terribly.

Last time the Pevensies were in Narnia, they fought with Aslan by their side. Our first battle against the small number of troops at the palace lost us so many lives and gained us nothing. I nearly lost her then. How can we hope to win against the entire Telmarine army without the great lion?

"Are you so glad of that magic horn now, boy?" Nikabrik startles me and I turn to face him. "Your kings and queens have failed us. Your army's half dead. And those that aren't, will be soon enough."

What is his aim in this conversation? "What do you want? Congratulations?" It takes a great amount of control not to sneer or spit at him as I speak. Why does he come to gloat over our failures - my failures? And he claims to be on our side.

A slow, sickening smile stretches over his scraggly gray beard. "You want your uncle's blood. So do we."

I stare at him. We?

He speaks each word with purpose and clarity. "You want your uncle's throne. We can get it for you." With another smile, he passes in front of me. I turn to watch him walk down the tunnel. What is he suggesting? Is there something I have overlooked that might win this war - that will keep Susan and her family safe? I give the picture on the wall a final glance before following the dwarf.

I catch up to him, and we walk along the carved walls of the center of the How, Aslan's tomb. He explains as we walk. "You tried one ancient power. It failed."

I glance up at the image of Aslan. Has he truly left us?

"But there is a power greater still. One that kept even Aslan at bay for near a hundred years." We stand in front of Aslan's image and he stares down the main tunnel ahead. A low noise like a rumbling growl begins to echo through the How, and I draw my sword. I hurry down the steps to Aslan's carving.

"Who's there?" I demand.

A rasping sound fills the tomb. The voice scratches over my soul like a palace spoon scraping against a porcelain dish. "I am hunger." A small, cloaked figure, hidden under the black cloak save for the snout of a strange, brown-furred animal, steps forward around the Stone Table. I reign in every ounce of temperance to keep myself from jumping back from the repulsive creature. "I am thirst." I notice movement in the shadows behind the Stone Table and glance in that direction, but the hunched figure moving slowly towards me seems to call for my attention at the moment. "I can fast a hundred years... and not die."

The figure on the opposite side of the Stone Table walks towards me as well. I can see that it is short, hunched over, and hidden under a black cloak as well, but the face is visible. The skin is wrinkled, shining with moisture, and pinkish. A tiny, shining black beak takes the place of a mouth and nose. A shudder dances down my spine at the sight of her. The first, bearish-like figure continues speaking as they both advance.

"I can lie a hundred nights on the ice... and not freeze. I can drink a river of blood... and not burst. Show... me... your enemies!" He tears off the hood to reveal a long, narrow face that does resemble a bear and lunges at me. I hold my sword before me and jump back, no longer able to remain still.

The bird-like figure removes her hood more slowly and begins to speak with a rasping feminine voice. "What you hate, so will we." She has scraggly black hair slicked back over the top of her head; her speech and movements are more gentle and smooth than the bear's. She glances at him with the next sentence. "No one hates better than us."

I stare at her. It's true; Aslan has left us. With only a tiny, amateur army to back me up and an entire country's troops to face, I have no other options. I must protect my people and the Pevensies. I must defeat my uncle and keep Susan safe. While the bear-creature is not one I could speak with without revulsion, this bird-woman seems a bit more sensible. I lower my sword, but do not sheath it yet. "And you can... guarantee Miraz's death?"

"And more." She bows. I slide my sword into its sheath. Perhaps we can win this war. I glance at the bear and the bird-woman, then back at Nikabrik. He smiles that sickening grin again and nods, then looks at the bird-woman. She turns to the bear. "Let the circle be drawn!"

The bear reaches down and begins to scratch a large circle into the dirt with one black claw. She paces around the circle, chanting with a strange rhythm in foreign words. Her voice grows louder as the chant progresses. The words are both enchanting and eery; I feel drawn to them and warned away in the same moment. The bear draws the circle around me, growling as he passes in front of me. I turn to watch as he completes the circle. Nikabrik is now standing behind me with the bear, and the bird woman stands in front of me, between myself and the carving of Aslan. From someplace in her cloak, she draws a long staff, with silver scrollwork along the sides and pointed, carved ice at the tips. Waving the staff before me, she completes the chant, then with a foreign cry she drives the staff into the stone steps in front of us.

Ice races over the stone steps and up the sides of the arch, creating a solid ice wall in the archway. The bird-woman steps back behind me and I watch the strange phenomenon, accompanied by an odd crackling sound. What magic is this, so unlike Aslan's? A chill comes over me as the ice emanates cold. Then a familiar face appears in the ice, smiling down at me.

No.


	11. Of Magic and Ice: Caspian

"Wait." I take a step back. "This isn't what I wanted." The White Witch can never be released. Aslan and the Pevensies killed her in their first battle together. This cannot be happening.

I walk back, away from the Witch, but the bear creature grabs me and pulls me forward, back into the circle. With one arm around my waist and the other hand grasping my wrist, he keeps me from pulling away as the bird-woman draws a dented silver dagger.

The Witch smiles at me and speaks in soft, soothing tones. "One drop of Adam's blood, and you free me. Then I am yours, my king." Her hair floats around her in the magic, icy image. Her voice is so sweet and gentle, and she promises support. I am drawn to her, but I resist. The magic - it's the magic pulling at me, creating emotions and sensations that are not my own. I try to fight it as the bird-woman slices my palm with her dagger.

"No!" I gasp at the pain and glance down at my bleeding hand, pulling in vain from the bear creature's arms. I return my gaze to the Witch.

She kisses her fingertips and reaches her hand out of the ice, which gives way to let her arm pass through. I stare at her. Those pale fingers, that soft smile, those dazzling eyes...

Dueling forces rage within me. I must stay true to Aslan. To the Kings and Queens. To Susan. I must protect Susan, her family, the Narnians. The White Witch was always a cruel and heartless woman who cared nothing for the Narnians, just like Miraz.

But the dwarf believes that she can help us now. Aslan is not here for us, and my small army cannot win this war or keep Narnia or Susan and her family safe. The Witch promises to support me, to win the war with her magic, to stand by my side. She is so beautiful, and I am so overwhelmed.

My decision is made without my realizing it. The bear-creature releases me, but I barely feel his arms leave my sides. I stand and gaze at the beautiful White Witch, the queen of magic and ice.

"Stop!"

She looks above me for the source of the sound, but I ignore it. The bear-creature and bird-woman can take care of the intruders. The noise of their fighting matters not. I reach for the dear, sweet woman of dazzling beauty, of ice and light and soft voice and slender, pale fingers. I must free the queen. I must free my queen. She and her magic will be mine. She reaches out towards me as well, glancing from me to the irritating noises behind me. A few steps more, and that lovely creature will be by my side.

"Come on, come!"

I strain to move, to free her as I long to, but my legs refuse to move. Images flash through my mind despite my efforts to brush them away. A lion, great and golden. A picture, painted along rock walls. A woman, with fierce eyes and dark hair and a sweet smile so rarely used.

I am on the ground. My entire body aches, and my head buzzes with the noises of battle around me. I look up. Directly in front of me, Peter stands in the center of the circle, staring up at the White Witch's image in the ice. His sword is pointed at her while she speaks softly to him. I glance down at my hand - still bleeding. How long has it been since the cut was made? Not too long, as the cut is still fresh. Why can I not remember?

The magic. I watch Peter, staring at the Witch without moving, and realize the circle must hold powerful magic. I pull myself to my feet slowly, every muscle aching.

Suddenly the end of a sword appears in the center of the ice image. The Witch looks down at the sword before letting her head fall back. The entire wall of ice shatters and I jump back, holding my arms up to protect myself from the shards of ice flying from the explosion. Once the ice settles, I see Edmund standing between the arch and the carved image of Aslan.

I remember now. The magic, the emotions, the warring thoughts. I nearly betrayed Aslan and all of Narnia. How could this have happened?

I step towards the arch and stand beside Peter. Edmund, with heavy breathing, nods at his brother. "I know. You had it sorted." With that statement, he walks away and back to the main tunnel. Peter and I turn in that direction.

Susan is standing behind the Stone Table.

Her jaw is set; her gaze is full of fire. She saw the Witch, saw what happened because of what I did. I betrayed her. Magic or not, I betrayed her and her family to the White Witch, the greatest of dark and evil magic in all of Narnia's history. She glances between Peter and I before turning and running back down the tunnel.

I glance down, look up at Peter, look back down the empty tunnel. What have I done?


	12. Aftermath: Caspian and Susan

**A/N: Those of you who know me from my blog, Emily Rachelle Writes, probably already read this chapter. ;) However, for those of you who didn't have the opportunity to enjoy that early look, enjoy now! :)**

_Caspian_

I exit the tunnels through the upper doorway onto the rock wall and sit with my legs hanging down over the edge. Gazing at the sky without truly seeing much, I struggle to make sense of the disaster that just played out in Aslan's tomb. The one thought I keep coming back to, is that of those who raised me. Am I more like Miraz than I thought? I cannot believe I came so close to betraying those I loved, just as he did when he murdered my father.

Professor Cornelius sits down beside me. I speak without looking at him. "Why did you never tell me about my father?"

He sighs. "My mother was a Black Dwarf from the Northern Mountains."

I look down at him. A dwarf? His physical appearance matches - the long, gray beard, the short stature. But how did a Narnian half-dwarf become tutor to the Telmarine crown prince - to me?

He stares forward through his tiny gold spectacles and resumes speaking. "I risked my life all these years so that one day, you might be a better king than those before you."

I look away into the sky, taking in his words. The events with the Witch consume my mind, and I look down in shame. "Then I have failed you." I have become so much like Miraz.

He turns his blue eyes up towards me. "Everything I told you... everything I didn't... it was only because I believe in you."

I turn to look towards him. He has heard of our history with the Witch, I know. Yet still he thinks me worthy of a throne?

His tone is gentle but serious. He means what he says. "You have the chance to become the most noble contradiction in history." He looks away. "The Telmarine who saved Narnia."

I turn my eyes back to the heavens and we sit in silence, watching the sunset. I wish I could believe him. I long to believe him. I want to save Narnia and the Queens and Kings. I want to protect Susan and her people, to become one of them, even. But I know I am not worthy... and I fear I am incapable.

_Susan_

I stand alone in the tunnel, leaning against the wall, far from the light of torches or noise of battle preparations or the conversations of others. After such a long few hours, I am alone.

Finally alone. Completely alone.

So I let the tears fall. I do not sob, or wail, or cry out. I am not one for hysterics, and I am also well aware of how easily a sound can echo through these tunnels to others' ears. My cries are silent and still, but I let them come.

Aslan has left us. Lucy and Edmund are still just children, even if they were adults once. Peter is too full of himself to be reliable. And Caspian...

Caspian betrayed me. Only a few hours ago, he betrayed me. He chose the Witch.

The tears fall harder, hot and thick against my face, spreading dark, wet shadows across the skirt of my dress. I cover my mouth with my hand and slide along the wall onto the floor. Pulling my knees towards me, I wrap my arms around them and sob into my skirt. The pain is unbearable, tearing the very fabric of my soul apart. I press my mouth into my knee to smother a scream.

How could he? How could he? How could he?

I love him. I loved him. I don't know which. My stomach churns and my breath comes in shudders as the tears continue to flow. How could he hurt me like this?

How could I let him?

I clutch my legs and rock back and forth, back and forth. I look up at the ceiling and send a silent cry to Aslan. How could you abandon us? Why call us back, just to let Narnia fall, to let everyone die, to let my family fall apart? Why did you let this happen?

Why did I fall in love?

Time passes. I don't know how much. The sobs and the pain continue to come in waves, crashing over my body before ebbing away for a moment's relief. Eventually they come more slowly, until finally I lay down and let sleep take over my body.


	13. Heart of a Queen: Susan

I wake shivering in the cold night with a terrible throbbing pain in my temples. I haven't any idea how long I've been sleeping or what time it is, but the tunnels are silent. It must not be dawn yet. Slowly, I push off the hard, cold stone floor and stretch out my cramped arms, legs, and neck. Hopefully I can still slip into the sleeping area unnoticed and get a few more hours' rest before morning.

My steps are muffled by my shoes and I reach our main camp in the How without a sound. Straining to see the sleeping bodies in the glow of the fires' embers, I notice my siblings lying around one of the fires with Trumpkin. There's not much room for another, but I might be able to fit between Edmund and Lucy. I start to make my way carefully around the room towards them.

I'm about halfway through the room when a hand covers my mouth. I reach up and attempt to scream, but a warm, tickling breath in my ear silences me.

"It's me."

Caspian. I tear his hand off my mouth and toss it aside. I want nothing to do with him, and take another step, intending to sidestep him. However, he takes hold of my arm. I pull away; he does not let go.

"Caspian, leave me be. I wish to sleep, not to talk with you." My tone is harsh, and I know it. I am not sorry. My head is aching and all I want to do is close my eyes and forget everything for a few hours.

"Please." I cannot see his face in what little light the fires scatter throughout the room. His tone is pleading. "Please, Susan, just let me explain."

"There's nothing to explain. Let me go."

He sighs, and I turn away, expecting him to listen. Instead, he slides his hand down my arm to my wrist, then tugs me back the way I came, down the tunnels and out into the chilly night air. I wrest my hand away the moment his grip loosens.

"Caspian, I told you, leave me alone!" I cross my arms and glare at him, certain that I look quite a sight in the moonlight after spilling my tears in the side tunnel.

His dark eyes glitter in the darkness and he runs a hand through his hair. "Susan, I'm sorry." His voice breaks, and I reluctantly uncross my arms.

"You should be." I wish I could bite back the words the moment they're spoken, but he deserves it.

He gestures with his hands in front of him as he pleads with me. "Susan, I am so sorry. I... I do not know what else to say." He turns away, puts his hands behind his head, lowers them again, turns back towards me. "I betrayed you. I know that. I betrayed Aslan, and your family, and all of Narnia. I can never make up for that, but I needed to apologize. I hope..." I look away from his penetrating gaze. His voice is thick and his words are nearly unrecognizable through the heavy accent. "I hope you might be able to forgive me, eventually."

A single tear slides down my cheek, and I brush it away. He reaches a hand out, and I do not pull back. He places both hands on my arms and steps closer.

"Susan, please, just tell me you can do that. Tell me that you will forgive me, if you can. Please."

I cannot answer. I swallow several times, vainly trying to get past the lump in my throat. A few more burning tears slip out. I can see the moonlight reflect off Caspian's own tears. I close my eyes.

I should be strong. Strong is who I am. I sniffle and feel the overwhelming sensation that I am weak and pathetic, crying here in the moonlight. I should march away from here and never let Caspian break my heart again.

But it hurts, it hurts, so much.

Caspian rests his forehead against mine and I feel heat radiate through my body. I open my eyes for a moment, shocked, but let them slide closed again and just lean into him.

"I am not worthy of a throne. I am not worthy of an army or a title or anything more than a place among traitors. I do not deserve your forgiveness." I hear him swallow hard, and I strain to understand the next sentence. "I doubt I can ever lead a kingdom, but I do not think I can go on knowing I hurt you like I did. I do not deserve your forgiveness... but still I hope you can grant it."

A place among traitors... A memory of Edmund floods my mind. My younger brother, once a carefree and even reckless boy, reduced to a silent, terrified creature after less than a week with the Witch. If Aslan's army had not forgiven such a traitor then, life - for my family and for them - would be so very different now.

But the Witch is the whole issue here. I cannot allow myself to be vulnerable. Caspian betrayed me; he broke my heart. I am tired and lonely and so very weak. I ought to be strong, unwavering.

_You must learn to trust._

I do not know what I should do, but I know what I want to do. I cannot be strong any longer. If forgiveness of a traitor was what Aslan died for so long ago, surely he would approve of it now, as well.

Caspian pulls his head away and takes a deep, shuddering breath. His grip loosens; he is going to return to the camp. He has said what he wanted to. I open my eyes and gasp for breath to force the words out.

"Yes."

He stands deathly still and meets my gaze. I clear my throat and repeat myself. "Yes." My voice is scratchy and thick with emotion.

"Say it." I barely understand his heavily-accented whisper. "Please."

"I forgive you."

He slides his hands around my back and pulls me to him. I rest my head on his chest and soak in his warmth, his spicy forest smell. His head rests against the top of mine and my arms wrap around his waist. I smile against his body as a single thought removes all others from my mind. I am not alone.

"I love you."

It takes me a moment to realize what I've heard. I pull away just enough to see Caspian's face. The truth and emotion I find in his eyes blow me away. I choke back yet another round of tears. Returning my head to his strong, warm chest, a few tears tumble out with my words, partially muffled in his shirt. "I love you, too."


End file.
